


Gala and Delilahs

by kritter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: just more general bromance, n an old romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 01:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kritter/pseuds/kritter
Summary: Leo gets back in touch with someone he used to know, and Markus offers advice on how to handle it.





	1. Chapter 1

“Leo… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The comment was simple, as Markus had figured out not to say things in so many words, lest it aggravate him further.

  
“What the  _fuck_ do you know about good ideas?” The realization he’d said that to one of the smartest beings he’d ever known was evident by the shift in his expression and a tinge of red on his cheeks. Rubbing an eye, he shook his head.

“You can make your own decisions, and I’ll let you do what you want to. But you’re six months sober and I know neither of us want you to let go of that now.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Leo groused. Markus couldn’t help the soft smile, and while Leo never stopped finding it irksome, he’s learned to appreciate what it meant. He’d gone through the process of thinking Markus was an unfeeling computer, to a maid, to a control freak, to something utterly useless and back again before finally settling on the fact he was a  _person_ , and one that cared, at that. Someone that cared about him and while maybe it wasn’t exactly unconditional love, Markus had given him more care and attention than anyone he’d known; even his own parents. It was hard to believe, let alone adjust to, and to a degree, it still unnerved him - to think an android,  **the one**  he hated so vehemently at that, with so much yelling and fighting until he made the thing  _deviate_ and start a war as an aftermath - but as time went on, he’d stopped seeing him as plastic and bolts and started treating him like a human without thinking twice about it.

“I know,” Markus responded softly, dignity never leaving his tone. That was something that Leo couldn’t help but admire, something he hated in the knowledge that it was programmed in the first place. Maybe that was the personal problem; Leo did nothing but struggle his whole life, while Markus was literally designed to be perfect and handle everything with golden fingers. Leo knew nothing of Kamski or what he was like as a person, but he didn’t think he’d get along with him, and for more reasons than his own natural defiance as a character.

“Gala got a hold of me again. I think that’s.. I think it’s why I want to go drink, or whatever.” Markus’ eyebrows gently creased.

“The girl that left you on the side of the road in December?” Leo bit his lip and nodded, but he didn’t avoid eye contact this time, another habit he’d slowly but surely been getting better with.

“Why do you call her that?” Leo’s face lit up with the realization Markus probably thought of the noun rather than a person when he heard the word.

“Oh yeah. I don’t know if you know anything about strippers?” A  _pfff_ left his lips that turned into a genuine laugh as he thought of the idea. What a joke.

“But they use stage names, and I guess  _Nicole_ never sounded right to me.” Markus remained focused.

“What did she say?” Pressing his lips together, Leo shrugged one shoulder with a fitting half-sigh.

“That she cut the meth and moved back in with her sister.” Markus remained sympathetic, but any mention of drugs in relation to Leo was always a red flag in his mind. He’d seen how hard it’s been on him, and he was still struggling with it; two addicts could encourage each other as well as dive right back in, and if the mention alone was a trigger, he didn’t exactly want Leo playing with the fire - as his character tended to do.

“She was saying we should meet up and talk, now that we both aren’t drugged to the eyeballs.” Leaning his head back, he looked at the ceiling with a thoughtful exhale, folding his arms behind his head and shifting in his seat.

“She can come here to talk if she doesn’t cause any trouble.”  _That_ surprised Leo, immediately causing him to change his position again as he leaned forward and caught Markus’ gaze.

“What?” He paused.

“You don’t mean that.” Markus quirked one eyebrow, an expression he’d learned to respond with when he lacked words, but a communication that Leo would nonetheless clearly understand.

“I would rather you two speak where I know you are safe, and if any trouble starts, I can quickly end it. It’s our house and  _we_ can decide whether she’s allowed or not. No window breaking, either.” Leo chortled a half-laugh as he felt foolish over the ordeal all over again, quickly turning it into a cough, as if he could remain subtle.

“I bet that car’s still in the junkyard.” He’d meant it as a joke, but there was no jest to his voice nor context to make light of; as his ‘humor’ tended to be at times, flat and unamusing only for the sake of feeling bad about himself. Markus took it as a form of warning, imagining both the best and worst case scenario.

“Do you want to talk to her? I should have asked that first.” For once, Leo paused in thought, rolling his tongue over his teeth before gritting them, a sign to Markus he still had bad feelings.

“I don’t know, man. I did some pretty shitty stuff. I know that. But I could have froze to death out there.”

“Did she apologize?” Expression softening, Leo nodded.

“I mean, we both did. I never expected her to call first.” Markus leaned forward in the chair, propping his elbows on his knees to hold his weight.

“She said sorry about dad, that she was proud of me, shit like that.” Pausing, he caught Markus’ gaze before glancing away and leaning back again.

“But I know her. I know she lies and talks pretty to get her way and reel people in.” He smiled, but it held some sarcasm.

“That’s why I liked her so much, why we worked together so well. But I don’t know her sober, either. I have no idea what she’s like in a clear head. I just… don’t know.” Markus nodded.

“Maybe keep your conversations over the phone for now, until you can get to know each other better again. Then if anyone gets hurt, you can hang up and think it over without so much tension.” Leo looked up to him in thought as he accepted the advice.

“You’re right. Thanks.” Markus kept his knowing gaze, but his expression softened.

“Want some coffee? It’s better than liquor in the long run.” It wasn’t a necessary comment, but he wanted Leo to be aware that there was  _always_ an alternative to those cravings. Leo waved his hand dismissively.

“Just some lemon ice water, thanks.” Markus offered a proud smile before he got up to retrieve the requested beverage. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo takes Markus' advice and gets in touch with his ex over the phone.

‘Come on, Leo,’ she beckoned from the other side of the phone conversation.

'I wanna see you again. And  _touch_  you,’ she said in her typical needy voice; he could virtually  _feel_  her bedroom eyes from her speaking tone, low and sultry, intending to turn him on.

'The android can join if you want.’ Startled with a shocked look in his eyes, he almost dropped the phone.

“That’s  _sick_! I’m straight, and besides, that’d be like if I invited your sister in on it when we banged.” His mind raced as he considered how nasty she might be if given the chance, deciding to speak before she tried to pull him into something  _else_.

“Forget I said that. Look, I’m really trying to do this for real this time, and I can’t do that if you wanna go back to the bar. It’s asking for trouble and you know that.” His voice held alarm most of all, feeling panicked more than he’d anticipated over the idea. Maybe Markus was right about the suggestion of hanging up before things became too much.

“Besides, I’m not really looking to date right now. All that lovey-dovey shit gets me off track, and this is  _my_  life now.”

'Who said anything about dating?’ There was practically a scoff in her tone, and the realization dawned that he should have known she wanted to meet up for sex.

'I know you’re getting better, baby. I am too. It’s been months. Don’t you want to see me again?’ Red flags flared in his mind while she snaked her way in with words, and part of him wished she wouldn’t try so hard. Yet he couldn’t help still wanting to give her the chance, considering maybe she didn’t know better and it was another bad habit  _she_  was trying to break - it was hard to tell and he had to give her the benefit of the doubt.

'I know Markus is helping you and all, but aren’t you  _lonely_?’ The huskiness in her voice made him chew his lip and shift in his seat as the temptation rose to touch himself to her voice, like he did in the motel rooms while she called him on work break- but he couldn’t give into that kind of thing anymore, or he’d be under her thumb all over again.

“Keep this up and I’ll hang up and block your number. I mean it.” She made an ugly sound and suddenly he felt  _used_  the same way as he had before.

“If you’re calling for sex, you’ve got a long list for that. I know I’m not special.” She went quiet, and he could imagine her infamous pout from where he was.

'Alright. I’m sorry. I guess it’s me that’s lonely.’ Appreciating her honesty, he felt the metaphorical bristles retract while his frustration simmered down, but he reminded himself to keep his guard up.

“I told you, you can come over, but no one’s getting naked. I respect this place too much for that. No kissing. Nothing.” It almost hurt him to say it, and she knew it too, but they both understood that the way he was setting boundaries was important, and no matter how much she wanted him back, she respected that.

'How do you do it? Stay inside all the time, don’t go on dates… I mean, I don’t drink as much but I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind without crystal. Aren’t you?’ Leo laughed.

“I’d need a mind left to lose,” he joked, and she responded with one of her usual soft  _hehs_ of not finding his self-deprecation funny, but half-laughing so he wouldn’t feel awkward or bad in the silence - he was a bit weird like that, and she’d adjusted to work around it.

“For real, it sucks sometimes, but it’s not so bad. Dad’s place is a lot nicer when I’m living here and not on the streets with an eviction notice, you know?”

'Sure. I thought maybe you’d want some fresh air, but you’re doing better than me with the whole thing. Maybe we can meet for lunch sometime?’

“Lunch here,” he repeated knowingly.

“Much as I miss the places we went to and the food we ate over at Munchkin’s, I made a deal and I’m sticking to it. Plus, Markus cooks good food, you’d be surprised. I know I was.” She giggled, and he felt his heart flutter.

'Isn’t he supposed to be good at that stuff? I mean…’ not wanting to say the wrong thing on the subject, she gave him room to correct her. It was yet again more respect than she’d offered in the past; maybe she really was shaping up, after all.

“Yeah, he’s good at a lot of stuff. He cooks, he plays piano, he paints. It’s kinda relaxing but I can’t do any of that shit.” He felt his own ego ache again as he remembered he didn’t have any talents.

'That’s okay, baby, you don’t have to be able to cook or draw to impress anybody. The stuff you’re doing on your own is pretty cool.’ Blinking, he was struck silent in a moment of thought, unused to hearing any compliments or congratulations - even Markus never granted him that.

“I… what?”

'I know how you feel, Leo. About school or art or whatever. But it’s all fake anyway. Your dad had a talent and made good money off of it, but you’re not a bad person because you can’t.’ The urge to cry struck him all over again, but he neglected it, standing up to wander to the kitchen and grab a brownie off the platter.

“… Thanks.” He stuffed it in his mouth in a moment of heightened nerves.

'Did you want to try to do the school thing? Like, again, it’s totally useless unless you want to go to college or whatever. Is there anything you want to  _try_?’ He shrugged, despite conversing to her with voice alone.

“Not really.”

'What about the garden? I know you don’t like hearing it because it’s not manly or whatever, but there’s a nursery downtown that’s hiring. Maybe you could try there.’ Discomfort welled in his chest as the embarrassment crept up on him, letting out a little sigh.

“I don’t do gardening.”

'You don’t have to, but you know your flowers a little bit. Smile and sell a few things, get some air and your own money in your pockets. As much as I know you like mooching off the rich,’ she said half-joking, half-serious, 'it can’t feel good to rely on it when you’re almost thirty.’ He cringed at the mention of his age.

“Jeeze, don’t remind me. Anyway, I don’t know that much, and I can’t pronounce half the names anyway.”

'See, Leo, that’s what’s stopping you. You take on a challenge when you want to prove yourself right, but if you think you’re wrong, you give up before you try. You can’t keep living like that, dude.’ Silent, he looked off to the side, leaving the other half of the brownie on the counter as he’d lost his appetite.

“I’ve tried that shit before. It never works out. Remember my last job?”

'Well I think it’ll go smoother if you can think straight, you know.’ Leo sighed, pinching his nose in frustration.

“I know. But I’ve still got a dirty ass criminal file and no experience to back me up. At  _almost thirty_ ,” he snapped, before abruptly regretting it.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I just don’t know if I’m ready for anything like that yet.”

'Don’t you want to start looking after yourself? You can’t rely on that an…er, person, for everything.’

“I know that,” he spat, feeling his agitation grow.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, okay? It’s… still a sore subject and I don’t like thinking about it.” She paused, and he knew she was debating whether to push it or not.

'Maybe try something easier? Telemarketing is easy, and you’re  _real_  good at annoying people,’ she said with a laugh, though it was a bit awkward as she was never sure if he’d take offense or not. Luckily, this time, he laughed, even if it was pitiful.

“Yeah, I love sitting on my ass all day and harassing people. Look, I’m not worried about it. Yeah, one day I want a car and a job and a dog, live the American dream and all that. But not yet. I’m not  _that_  successful and I don’t think I ever will be.” He knew she rolled her eyes by the pause.

'Okay, Leo. Take it at your own pace. You’re doing a lot already; I just know you can do so much more. You’ve got time, though.’ This time, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, you too. Look, I gotta go. Call me back later and maybe we can meet up, but just tell me if you wanna come chill. I can like, pay for gas and shit. Well, not  _me_ , but you know.” She let out a soft giggle, and he felt a bit better already.

'Yeah, don’t bust up my car this time and I won’t take your money and kick you out. Deal?’ There was a grunt and a snort before he laughed this time, proving it was genuine.

“Joke’s on you, can’t kick me out of my new home  _or_  your car. Suck on  _that_.”

'Oh,  _please_ ,’ she teased with a purr that made him turn red from his ears to his shoulders.

“A…anyway. Later, Gal.”

'Have a good evening, Leo. You can call me back next time, okay? I really did just miss you.’ Going silent, he hesitated.

“I miss you too. I’ll call you back later. And uh, hey. Thanks.”

'Goodnight, Leo.’ Pulling the device away from his face, he hadn’t noticed the time until she said  _night_ , considering the fact it was 8:08. Not any time in particular, and it still only really registered to him as numbers for the most part, but he tried to fathom the idea of 'early night’ and what it might mean for someone with a consistent schedule. Glancing at his contacts, gloom loomed over him as he realized all that was left now was her and Markus’ number, as he’d lost touch with whoever he’d considered his friends in the past, and deleted Carl’s number right after the death. It made his phone look strangely empty, prompting him to swipe it locked and set it aside.

“How’d it go?” He nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw Markus in the doorway, taking a second to catch his breath.

“Don’t do that,” he told him as if he could help it.

“Sorry. I’ll ring a bell next time.” Leo rolled his eyes, leaning his weight against the table and drumming his fingers against the surface as he grew antsy.

“Uh, good. Mostly. I dunno. She’s doing a lot better, but she’s still… trying old stuff, I guess.” Markus dipped his head with a respectable nod.

“Well, she was. I shut her down and she knocked it off, and that’s… good.” Markus respected how strange and awkward Leo must have felt, giving him the space he seemed to need as he stopped a few feet away from him.

“You’re keeping your boundaries, then. That’s good.” Leo’s eyes averted to look at the ground as he wiggled in place, another strange habit he seemed to have.

“You’re restless, and it’s getting late. Are you still trying for a bedtime routine?” Leo sighed, nodding.

“Trying,” he parroted for emphasis.

“Laying in bed all night doesn’t sound as relaxing as it seems. I don’t think I can do that now, there’s too much on my mind.” Markus accepted his words with no commentary.

“Try some chamomile tea. The kind we have has Valerian root, another natural sedative. Would you like me to make you a cup?” Leo made a face - he’d never liked the taste of hot tea - but was more willing to try than he usually would be. Maybe Markus caught onto that and that was why he asked.

“Sure. Why not. Worst that happens is it doesn’t work, right?”

“I think you’ll be surprised.” Maneuvering around him, Markus headed towards the kitchen to put the water in the kettle to boil.

“Oh, don’t use that,” he said with more sharpness than he intended, prompting Markus to turn around with a confused look.

“I mean. Can you not?” The phrasing was clunky on his tongue.

“The squeal from those things drives me nuts.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo invites Gala over for some catching up.

It had been a week, with them conversing off and on until he felt like he could trust her enough to see her in person. Before he dared to try, he ensured he conversed with Markus first, double checking in case he changed his mind on the matter after all.

Luckily enough, they’d been allowed to meet, leaving Leo to sit and wait anxiously at the dinner table, peeling away the dead leaves from the purple hyacinth he held and spinning it between his fingers; _remorse_. Leaning back in the seat, he told the TV to turn on, grabbing the remote as he flipped to a modern alternative rock station and left it on low.

Once she arrived, he was on his feet before he knew it, a nervous smile crossing his face as he witnessed her in all her gorgeousness all over again.

“Oh my god, you look amazing,” he said with a bit of surprise, admiring her for a second while she tucked her hair behind her ear - now a sparkling lavender, complimenting the crisp snowflake blue of her eyes - casting him a shy glance as she set her silver purse on the kitchen table with care.

“You too, Leo.” Glancing at the flower, her eyes asked the question he already knew without the words.

“I-it’s…an apology,” he said simply, carefully leaning forward to tuck the stem behind her ear so it nestled into her hair, only proving to further add to her breathtaking beauty.

“I know you said no touching, but… can I give you a hug?” With a soft chuckle, he opened his arms, taking her into them with a comfortable, careful squeeze, holding and rocking her for a moment before withdrawing and pulling out a chair so she could sit, then sitting down next to her.

“So, uhm,” he started, scratching the back of his neck in a moment of awkwardness as he searched for what to say.

“How long have you been sober?” Blinking, she glanced to the side, shrugging as she curled in on herself, always seeming shy in person despite her bravery on the stage. Something about that alter ego was all the more fascinating to him.

“Not that long. A couple months. And I slipped… more than a few times.”

“It’s okay. I’ve tried a lot too. I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with it without Markus, anyway.”

“What about you? How long has it been?”

“I had three months and then uh, I really messed up. But I’m done now, like, for real.” Remembering how many times he’d already tried to say that, he shook his head as his eyes lit up.

“It’s stupid, but I mean, I can’t do it again or I’ll probably die, and that’s good enough of a reason as any I guess.” Expression dimming, she glanced at his forearms in another silent question, then looked back up to his eyes. He shook his head.

“Nothing like that, not in a while. I mean - no new scars. Hard to want to kill yourself after you almost died and your brother’s crying over it and all.” Her eyes widened with enough fear it made him wince, regretting how blunt he tended to be about sensitive matters.

“It’s okay. But I kinda owe him my life.” Nope, that didn’t sound any better. Shaking her head, she reached out her hand, each finger decorated with long, curved, snow-white nails as her fingers slid between his.

“I’m glad you’re taking it seriously, Leo. Sorry it took me so long to get the hint.” He shrugged one shoulder with a fitting half-smile.

“It’s never too late. You already sound so much better. I dunno, that stupid NA stuff can really help sometimes, the whole, ‘one day at a time’ thing. Sometimes that’s all you can do, even if you start over.” Smiling, she nodded sagely, absorbing the wisdom in thought.

“I don’t know. I never thought about it the way you’d said before, how you hate yourself and who it makes you.”

“You kinda have to sober up to figure it out. Stupid catch, isn’t it?” They shared a laugh, thumbing over the soft palm-side of each other’s hands.

“That’s why I just went to the hospital. I can’t be around it, reminded of it or anything, or I just get caught up in it all over again, you know?” She nodded, but still leaned her head into her shoulder with a doe-eyed gaze of wonder he’d never quite fully fallen out of love with.

“You said Markus rehabilitated you this time, right?” He nodded with a little sigh.

“Twice, now. Like I said…I owe him one. Or three.” Giggling through a pearly white smile, she nodded.

“How is he, anyway?”

“Weird as ever,” he said with more ease after the time they’d spent together, and he’d gotten to know him more as a person, feeling like he could say such a thing without being worried.

“I don’t know, I used to hate him so much. But I just hated him for what I couldn’t have, you know?” Watching him with attentive eyes, she listened, bringing her other hand to wrap them both around his. Feeling embarrassed again, he shrugged sheepishly, glancing off to one side.

“Kinda freaky living with the android revolution guy, but whatever. He’s taught me a lot. I still think it’s annoying as hell, how smart he is, but I never thought it could really… help me, I guess.”

“I still think that he could really help you get somewhere really cool, with all that knowledge. What could go wrong?” Facial expression falling, Leo quickly avoided the question.

“How’s it going living with your sister?” Glittery lavender eyelids with long violet lashes lowered heavily over her eyes with a look of dismay as he, yet again, diverted away from the suggestion of his own intelligence, but she let it go.

“She’s a pain in my ass. What do you expect?” Rolling her eyes, she withdrew her hands, running fingers through a strand of her hair as she carefully avoided touching the freshly picked flower.

“Good point, I guess. I remember living with her…wish I didn’t.” Crinkling her nose in a sneer, she let out a less friendly laugh with a roll of her eyes and tilted her head, glancing over at some of the decorations on the wall, admiring the curls of gold skulls and finely-painted tapestries.

“Yeah, I wanna move out, but I have to quit my job if I want to get out of hell. Which sucks, I can’t do much without my sex appeal these days.” Looking perplexed, he tilted his head.

“What? Why not?”

“Don’t  _what_  me like you think I’d settle for being a barista or a waitress,” she said with confidence and a wry smile in his direction. A familiar tingle ran up his spine that he did his best to ignore.

“I have a gift, baby, and a flawless body to boot. But where there’s strippers, there’s drugs and money. I can’t keep up with the scene anymore. Plus, with my, you know…” Her voice grew quiet, and he wasted no time scooting his chair a little closer to her.

“Right. Quitting will help all that, right?”

“Yeah. And not moving around so much. I was really pushing it, and I can still feel it in my elbows and knees.” Sighing, she popped her lips, leaning back in the chair with a sullen gaze.

“Talk about dying early, huh?” she offered halfheartedly. Leo flashed something of a cringey smile in response, but he could never help chuckling even slightly at morbid jokes, no matter how real or bad they actually were.

“Oh, come on. You’ve got a little while, right?”

“Ten years, if I’m real lucky. Kinda knocked myself back a bit with the, well, everything.” This time, his expression fell, eyes drifting down to stare at the wood of the table, taking a moment of extra thought not to scrape his nails into the surface in his moment of anxiety, biting his lip while he was silent for a moment.

“I don’t know. Tech’s always improving. Maybe there’ll be something…” he felt the doubt in her eyes and trailed off, sighing as he stood up – the conversation was beginning to grow stressful, so he wasn’t about to sit around and fester about it.

“Want some coffee?”

“I can’t, Leo.” Freezing in place, embarrassment panged him as he’d already forgotten.

“Oh. Right. Well, we have a shit ton of tea, if you want any.”

“Actually, that doesn’t sound so bad,” she responded in a lighter tone for both of their sake.

“Do you have any…” pausing, she mused over what she  _could_  remember of herbal symbolism from their time together, and short exchanges over the matter. After a moment, she wore a clever smile, glancing in his direction as he opened the cupboards.

“Do you have anything with hibiscus?” Pausing, he scratched his chin as he searched, before turning back to her in confusion.

“You don’t even like the taste of-” catching the irony in her request, as hibiscus generally signified a  _perfect woman_ , he rolled his eyes and reached for some ginger, thinking of  _strength, prosperity,_ and _unique personality traits_. Plus, as he’d learned from Markus using it to ease his upset stomach, he’d learned it generally helped with the digestive system as a whole.

“Clever. I’ll see what you remember.”

She smiled sweetly as she acknowledged exactly the intelligence and personal interest that he’d made a point of avoiding, finding a quiet irony in the silent symbolism within the language of the flowers.

“I remember the lilacs. It was the first bouquet you gave me. A few in each color.” Pausing, he felt his cheeks warm up in response to the memory.

“That was  _tacky_ , is what that was.”

“I dunno, better than roses in my opinion.” Part of him wanted to defend the significance of rose symbolism, but the rest of him agreed that it was a tacky and cliché flower they both tended to avoid, alongside the fact he never took to touching the thorny plants.

“What are flowers all about, anyway? Tell me about the bees and the…bees,” she said with a giggle. Somewhat still embarrassed, he returned to her side, standing with his weight on his better leg while he waited for the water to boil.

“Nothing, really. They’re plant dicks. Sometimes cooters, I guess.” Raising her eyebrows, she scoffed at his vulgarity, nonetheless expecting his snarky laugh in response.

“Great. I’ll never eat pussy the same way again.”  _That_  shut him up, at least for a second.

“Bees are just… delivery boys. Carrying around a bunch of plant spunk–”

“Oh my gosh,  _stop_ ,” she whined playfully with a swat of her hand against his shoulder.

“Do you really have to make everything so disgusting?”

“It’s like, my one charm. If you don’t hate it, then it’s a challenge.” Rolling her eyes, she stood up to fetch the tea for herself, aware his leg was hurting him by his posture alone.

“What’s your favorite flower, Leo?” Eyebrows raising, he pretended he didn’t honestly consider the question.

“Eggplant and peach,” he responded in jest, only to get another ridiculing glare from her as she acknowledged the ages-old reference, just as perverse as the rest.

“Gross! Also, those are fruits, you dingus.” Catching herself calling him a derogatory name - something he historically never took well to - a bit too late, she lowered her head in apology. She really appreciated how sensitive he could be and seeing him feel down about himself was worse than any of the anger or bloated pride he could have ever shown.

“Sorry,” she said lightly to try to keep the mood steady, “I should say ding  _dong_  since you like dick so much.” Leo cast her an offended glare at first, but even he couldn’t take himself too seriously for long.

“Oh, shut up,” he murmured.

“Don’t be such a  _pansy_ , Leo,” she snarked with a grin, reaching to ruffle his hair so as not to upset him too much.

“Joke’s on you, pansies are for free-thinkers,” he informed her with a few taps to his temple via an index finger in gesture.

“Well, orange ones anyway. Too many flowers just mean love if you’re not careful.”

“So… plant penis for your Valentine? Makes sense to me.” With a  _pffft_  under his breath, he nudged her playfully with a kick of his leg.

“Show that to your next partner,” he told her, propping his chin up on his hands as he leaned over the table.

“They’ll love it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo and Gala have another confrontation, more personal this time.

It was frightening the way Gala could change her personality on a whim, when she wanted and needed to. Leo imagined it might have been the same way when people experienced similarly with him, but he didn’t believe he had so much control over such an aspect, like she did.

It was kinky, for a while; the downcast glares, high heels, tight leather and sour attitude that had him riled up in seconds. When he was too gone to think and she could do it for him, so being stepped all over wasn’t so bad; at least not in the literal sense, bound to the bed with overcoming desire flooding his body and nothing else.

That’s what addictive personalities were about—wanting more, and more, and  _more_. He’d always wanted more than he had, and as he’d had less, he desired greater. It was a natural cycle that made sense in his head, but as he grew older, the understanding grew dimmer, and more people around saw him as selfish and demanding the  _more_  he wanted.  _Craved_. Desired, stuck his neck out for, went to unusual lengths to get a hold of; and by then it didn’t seem so simple anymore, and adults weren’t so understanding when all he wanted was a quiet place to go to snort lines and cry for a night.

It was desire amidst a twisted rewards system always thinking it was going to achieve instant gratification, only to fall through with heavier disappointment each time it didn’t happen. Psychology textbooks had said so for decades, but he ignored those. He didn’t like the words, how they sounded, how they seemed to  _laugh_  at him, and naturally it was easier to blend in with others that had likewise problems than try to confront his personal issues, on his own.

Which was what lead someone to wind up with a drug addiction problem. Drugs were always on the mind—if it wasn’t one thing, it was the next. The ‘gateway drug’ theory only worked in reverse when one tried to come down off of the worst; when there wasn’t red ice, meth was nearby. There was crack, cocaine and heroin. Beside that were the Xanax bars, Oxycodone and Benzodiazepines he’d luckily avoided in the favor that they never did anything for him. Alcohol and weed were low-level, last resorts in a mind like his, always chasing the dragon; but still he mentally crawled for the slightest satisfaction of any high he could get.

Hours of sex, awake days on end, strung-out from the dry eyeballs to chattering teeth, neglecting the numb feeling on his skin while he dug across his arms with jagged, bitten-down fingernails. Nights of drinking, hitting the pipe and the windowpanes of her nice new luxury car, an expensive birthday gift that filled him with so much resentment he couldn’t breathe. Mornings of sinking into heroin happiness, followed by nights in the K-hole, half-unconscious on the floor of his ex’s best friend’s boyfriend’s place, because that was the only asshole available to ‘look after him’ for the night.

Ecstasy, LSD, Molly. Marijuana, Brandy and a few cigarettes. Leo spent so much of his time avoiding reality, he didn’t acknowledge the reality of  _what_  he avoided—that which was one of danger and constant avoidance, delirium and confusion.

When red ice was first big, he was young, blossoming into late teenage years. When androids were new, fascinating experiments, high-priced in their new days of being released with plenty of bugs and defects yet to be discovered by its ever-eager richening market. Kamski was already sitting comfortably while the drudges of Detroit were left to look up to the plastic dolls like angels and saviors, something that might swoop into your life and take all your worries from you—cleaning, chores, childcare—all carried away in the arms of a plastic, smiling white knight that would never thank you with sincerity, only continue to empty your bank accounts and steal your job.

But they  _could_  thank you with their biocomponents.

Androids were nothing so complex back in the day; human-shaped, sure, with a basic personality installed back when the Chloe models were new, hot shit, when there was no  _need_  for an overly responsive, humanoid robot – just something that looked like you, spoke like you, but did what you didn’t want or need to. Easy. The solution of humanity never taking up enough space seemed fixed, and the personal desire for company more than one could earn was quickly, but temporarily satiated.

Thirium wasn’t a new chemical, but its use as an electric component was freshly discovered. He’d been one of the suspects on one of Lieutenant’s Red Ice Epidemic cases, but luckily knew how to keep his head covered enough no one made the connection, considering he was fleeting enough throughout the city and a minor at the time, anyway, leaving him off with warnings and a glance of pretend worry from the direction of his  _parent;_  considering he didn’t exactly have two growing up.

His  _mother_  would gather everything she needed, herself; as much as she could, all at once.  _It wasn’t hard to make_ , she’d tell him in a shy tone that beckoned him to add to the business.  
He refused to learn.

“You’re ripping those people off, you know. You’re ruining their lives,” he’d tell her, thinking with a pure heart in mind of whoever created  _androids_  in the first place. A marvel of their time and many more to come, he’d only heard of such a thing when he  _could have been_  graduating high school.

They weren’t everywhere right away. They worked their way in, filling the gaps in places they were designed to. One by one, they took up space, and soon enough saying  _your boss was a robot_  wasn’t a farfetched exclamation.

As is a human’s nature, it was only a matter of time until someone found out how to make a drug out of it; a cheap, synthetic mashup of chemicals that happened to work out when someone learned adding a drop of thirium to your cooking added a bit of spice to the high. Soon enough, it was common; rolled into cigarettes, powdered over a bowl of weed or laced into whatever else you might want,  _just to try_. Once was enough. Leo didn’t need a second chance at convincing himself to do something he wanted to in the moment, whether it was for the better or not. It was there, something of an opportunity, and not one he wanted to miss out on, something he’d convinced himself was worthwhile as soon as he took that first hit.

Days went by, but he never felt like he was aging. “Growing up” was a term he’d never understood, not the way other people talked about it, so he’d laugh, roll a spliff and light it, ignoring the entirety of his neglected childhood while the static of friendly chatter filled his ears.

Friends and girlfriends came and left. Gala appeared to be an inconsistent consistency, seeming to always be there whether he needed her to or not. Usually, it was too often, as she was sinister and conniving when she was under the influence—most people were, but the way she acted when she’d started sobering up was nothing short of a surprise to him. There were two sides to every coin, he’d learned and known well, but it goes to show how much he didn’t really connect to anyone once he realized he never really  _knew_  her, dating or not.

Part of him convinced himself he enjoyed the nasty personality, of course. Nothing  _wasn’t_ sexy about a badass bitch that wouldn’t take any shit, and she’d protected him for a long time, if only because no one else would. Leo had always known he was lucky from the way she looked at him, the stars in her eyes and the tender touches, graced by the marks of vicious claws that raked his back or across his face, depending on the day. She could purr, but it was her yowls he liked the best, and it was likely all situational; where there were drugs, there were parties, and youth like the two of them tended to get wily in the absence of real responsibility and caretaking.

“Do you remember how we met?” Her voice was so sweet when it wasn’t crackled by the cigarettes and the smoke; he could hardly believe it.

“Sure, the water tower,” he responded, thinking back.

“You bet me fifty bucks to jump off.” A gleaming smile and the glisten in her eyes that made him feel like he’d walked through heaven’s golden gates.

“Because I knew you would,” she taunted with a crinkle in her nose that always made him smile.

“That’s kinda morbid,” he carried on with a chuckle.

“Talk about first impressions. Mine was, ‘ _I’ll do something stupid and deadly for money_.’” He flashed a smile back at her, but they always felt so cheesy in comparison. Leo never liked his own smiles, as he knew they looked as painfully forced as they were; someone that would hardly find anything to smile about had to work his way around somehow.

“And you would have, too, if Trevor wasn’t there to stop you. I could have killed you the first night we met!” Her voice was light and airy as she let out another wicked chuckle, as another thing they’d always connected on was that  _morbid humor._

“Yeah, well, so could a determined raccoon or a falling chunk of a plane. If that was how I was supposed to go out…” He leaned back in the chair with a shrug and a huff, baring his teeth a bit too much in his smile. She liked the little snarl in his expressions, anyway.

“Guess I would have been on the news for a bit. Five minutes of fame and all that.” She shook her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear absent-mindedly.

“You know, I wouldn’t have expected you to be so…” He winced at his own word choice, but he wasn’t exactly a great thesaurus.

“ _Nice_.” At this she let out a cackle, still whimsical but also holding the years he’d gone through of literal hell within her, almost witchlike in its nature. It made him feel meek, but that was part of what he enjoyed; that rather than feeling challenged or some other toxic masculinity-induced negativity, he could appreciate the power she had in the way she walked, spoke and dressed with such confidence he’d never be able to  _imagine_  the feeling of.

“Oh, Leo…” biting her lip, she tilted her head and glanced to the ceiling as she thought of what to say next.

“You know how easy it is to be  _mean_. Nobody listens to kind voices these days.” Acknowledging the seriousness in her tone, he settled himself down, scooting his chair forward and directing his attention to her to assure he listened – for both their sake.

“But being a bitch…I guess it worked for me, but it really  _didn’t_. It’s not like me. I had to do it to protect myself, you know? Sorry you only knew the worst me.” Returning a solemn gaze, he nodded, finding an automatic guidance to his hand as it reached for hers, matching palm-to-palm before they entwined fingers. Meeting with her again had gone much better than he initially thought or expected. Waving their hands back and forth, she smiled, then sighed, letting the light of her expression go as she glanced off to the side.

“Yeah, that’s more of your sister’s thing,” he slipped in slyly, and she smirked at him in response.

“Really, though, I get it,” he redirected.

“I don’t know. It’s fucked up. Nothing was really  _real_ , when we were there. None of the drugs, or the people, or anything.” Slowly nodding, she accepted what he was saying, drumming her long fingernails across the back of his knuckles in a rhythm.

“It didn’t have to be,” she said in a quieter voice, melancholic in tone.

“It was enough for us. It always feels like it is. I thought cheating, lying and stealing would get me what I want. I thought it would make me happy.” As her comment hit home, it was his turn to retract and look off to the side, shoulders shrugging up as his body receded into itself the way he often did when he felt small.

“I know, I know,” she said in acknowledgement to his personal situation with a little sigh.

“I, uhm, never got the chance to say it, but I’m sorry about your dad. I know the relationship was complicated, but you tried your best.” Leo seemed surprised to find himself gritting his teeth, finding  _anger_  to be his first response in regard to his own father.

“I wish I could say sorry to him, too,” she added.

“For being a bitch.” Leo grimaced.

“Oh, trust me, me too,” he said with a dry laugh, but the smile wasn’t there.

“I’ve mostly uh, gotten over it. I mean, I know I’ll never be  _over it_ or whatever they tell you in therapy? But he… wasn’t really the type to hold grudges,” he said kindly, glancing down at the table wood with a sigh.

“I know that feeling guilty isn’t gonna help me, and he’d know that, too. I know he wouldn’t want me to. He was…a cool guy,” he murmured, trying to form the personality in his head that was the father figure he’d seen off and on throughout his life.

“Smarter than balls, man. Why couldn’t I have some of that?” Huffing, he felt familiar frustrations crawl into his mind again; she withdrew her hand from his to gently squeeze his shoulder, offering a sympathetic gaze.

“No, see, this is what gets me,” he corrected himself, only looking at her for a second before the fidgeting portion of his mind took over  and he started chewing down a thumbnail.

“Every time I think about him, I just get mad. I get angry, and jealous, and for what? He’s  _dead_.” His words were heavy, and while he meant to weigh them as a self-reminder, he knew he was being a bit too harsh with his tongue.

“Leo, your life wasn’t fair, and you feel like he’d taken everything good from you.” To his surprise, she didn’t miss a beat, and he couldn’t help the validation feeling nice.

“You’re jealous from seeing a person thrive with tools you could have had, only to hang them above your head. Whether he meant to or not.” Leo ran a hand through his hair, shifting in his seat with an antsy shrug.

“I was always so convinced he hated me. That he ignored me all my life, you know? That I was the problem…no, no, it was just the drugs. It was  _always_  the drugs, and I couldn’t get off of them. And now he’s dead.” With worry in her eyes, she gave him a gentle shove in the shoulder, knowing he’d appreciate the rough play for what it was.

“That’s not your fault. If he was the way you talk about him, then…he’d know you’re doing your best now, and probably wouldn’t think it was too late.” Propping her chin on a hand, she tilted her head with a slight smile, enough to be supportive without coming across as overbearing or intrusive.

“I messed up my whole life, Gala. All my chances, right down the drain. I don’t know why I think it matters if I clean up  _now_ ,” he groused, scratching the back of his neck as he stared at one of the fixtures on the wall.

“Of  _course_  it matters. You could sober up when you’re fifty and he’d still roll in his grave, you know it.” Closing his eyes, he let his head drop with an awkward laugh before he glanced back up at her. This smile was a touch more genuine.

“Because he wouldn’t believe it,” he said in a quiet whisper, threatened by the sting of tears and quickly wiping his eyes with the back of a sweater sleeve. Wanting to be supportive without getting  _too_ close, she combed back some of his hair, nearly leaning in to kiss his temple before re-deciding, considering they’d just started talking again and things were rocky; the last thing she wanted was to make him uncomfortable.

“I don’t know how you do it, the alter-ego thing.” The subject change was swift, but luckily for him, they were both used to his conversational ways of switching context without much warning.

“I can’t keep track of what personality I  _do_  have. How do you… choose?” Looking dismal, she withdrew her hand without much thought, settling it folded across her other on the table as she mulled over the idea.

“It’s just acting. I know on stage, I’m nothing more than a toy that makes money for doing cool tricks. On the streets, I had to be mean or I’d be taken advantage of. Do you know how vulnerable people like me are to rape and kidnapping?” She popped her lips in a quick sound of wanting to avoid the subject herself, expression unimpressed as she glanced at the time on her phone.

“Whatever. There’s nothing to keep track of, I just acted how I needed to for the moment. I’m sure you understand that.” Slouching sheepishly, he tilted his head with an expression that showed he was trying to comprehend her words, but still clearly struggled, listening intently anyway.

“I’m glad you don’t have to change your personality on a whim, Leo. People may think you’re boring, or aggressive, but I know there’s more to you than that.” The  _compliments_ always left him feeling stiff and awkward however, as he never had any reason to believe them, and still didn’t.

“I don’t,” he admitted blatantly. She glared at him with a stare that told she knew all too well.

“You haven’t had a chance to grow, Leo. You have to give yourself that chance now.” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, catching his attention in a way he felt like cotton stuffed his sinuses.

“It doesn’t matter what time it is, or how late into your life you are. I know, it sucks, right? Being almost thirty and trying to pick up the pieces  _now_?” They shared a laugh, but he didn’t feel much better.

“It helps me to think it could be worse. My situation isn’t great either, as you know, but I can’t dwell on the last ten years of my life thinking about how I wasted the last 29 either.” With his eyes lighting up in realization, he couldn’t help standing from his seat, aggressively slamming a hand onto the table in regard to the epiphany alone. She’d probably have looked surprised if she wasn’t used to that, too, glancing up at him with lifted eyebrows as she awaited the explanation.

“Oh, my god, your birthday,” he said in a panic.

“That’s in like, a week! I didn’t even think about it,” he continued, rubbing his forehead as he turned to start pacing. Gripping the back of his shirt, she tugged him back, careful so as not to snag a nail on the cloth.

“Shut up, Leo,” she said abruptly so that it would work, and so he’d turned to face her, silent and dumbfound.

“I’m having a party downtown, but I didn’t invite you because I know you can’t handle the scene right now. Don’t worry about gifts. It’s alright.” Feeling nervous, he tapped his fingertips against the leg of his jeans while he swerved in place, shaking his head with a sigh.

“Doesn’t it drive you nuts?” His voice was becoming fast and erratic again, a worrying sign for her.

“How can you stay out there, a-and do that? I know you have to, but the androids are gonna take your place anyway. Why not just quit?” He knew the question was as stupid as he felt asking it, but he genuinely wanted to hear her piece.

“I’m looking for other money, but it’s hard to come by. This is what I’m  _good_  at, another thing taken away by picture-perfect plastic models.” The spite was clear in her voice, and he couldn’t help being empathetic, as they’d dealt with the same problem even if in different aspects of their lives.

“Can’t say androids ever did it for me,” he thought aloud.

“I mean, they’re not  _that_  sexy, and I bet nothing feels the same anyway.” There was a slight blush to his cheeks from talking about it, gaze otherwise solemn as he continued staring at the tabletop wood.

“It doesn’t matter. Perverts will always try to get what they can for cheap,” she retorted.

“Luckily for  _me_ , renting them is still fairly expensive and it’s cheaper to throw pocket change into my thong instead. But that won’t last long.” Dumbfounded, he stared at her.

“I couldn’t do it,” he said with a stagnant air of doubt.

“Trying to keep the same life without doing the same shit?” Scratching his forehead, he shook his head and shrugged, genuinely baffled.

“How do you stay away from the stuff?” Staring off to the side again, she shrugged one shoulder, slouching into it as she veered her body language that direction, leaning forward and settling into her chair.

“I don’t,” she replied simply, her voice quiet and calm.

“It’s always there and you have  _no idea_  how hard it is. But if I don’t keep up the bills, I don’t have a place to stay, and neither does my sister.” Sharing a pained expression, Leo paused in a moment of thought so as not to pick at old scabs, sighing and nodding all the while he digested the information.

“I wish I could help, but Markus doesn’t want anything getting in the way of my recovery.”

“I understand,” she offered softly.

“I’m not about to ask anyone for money or favors, especially after what I did to you.” Struck by what she said, he froze, eyes darting to her while he remained still for a moment. Again, she surprised him, as he’d never expected her to own up to such a thing, feeling old memories tug strings of nostalgia within him while he waited for his own thoughts to recollect.

“I guess I deserved it,” he murmured, prompting a stern glare from her.

“We aren’t counting faults,” she said in an almost snappy voice, tapping the table with a loud click of her nails so as to catch his attention and distract him from whatever nastiness he might start thinking.

Their oppositional personalities reflected the irony;  _I couldn’t do it_ , they’d say to one another about a situation they were somewhat living in, but mostly differed from. He couldn’t be around the drugs; she couldn’t break away from them. She wanted to live the most out of her life in the time she could, while he felt like he had more time to live than he knew what to do with. Mostly, they were both trying to find a lifestyle they found comfort in that was exciting enough to keep them away from substance abuse, and that was what he tried to think of when she insisted not to hold grudges or hurt feelings.

“Okay but it was like, really fucked up. We were, I mean.” She cast him a dismal glare that held a seriousness to it that could be intimidating, if one weren’t set in their own ego well enough. Having momentarily forgotten touchy subjects were a thing, he retreated into his seat as he thought over his words.

“Sorry…but I mean it. I think about the shit I’ve done every day. I can’t get rid of it.” Starting to jitter one of his legs, he shifted to lean back, raking his hands up his thighs before he stood up with a sigh.

“You have to forgive yourself, too, Leo.”

“That’s enough,” he snapped immediately, stopping in place as he glared at her with a meaner expression than he intended to.

“I don’t wanna talk about this shit anymore, and it comes up every time,” he said with a notable agitated whine in his voice, fingers finding themselves in his hair as he lacked another way to relieve the stress.

“Because it’s important, and you can’t keep avoiding it. Especially if you want to recover, and I know you do. It’s  _serious_.” Wobbling in his stance, he almost lost his balance, seething silently while he felt anger bubble up beneath his skin again. If he didn’t cut this short now, it wouldn’t end well; he knew it, and he was sure she did, too.

“I’m working on it at my own pace, okay? You’re not my therapist! You and Markus always act like you know what’s best for me, and I barely know either of you. I  _know_  what’s important! It’s not like I haven’t been told my entire life what I’m supposed to do, or how I’m supposed to feel! I just, I haven’t figured that out yet, and I, I can’t do this. Not now, not yet.” After pacing back and forth a few more times, he finally turned to face her, letting his arms fall at his sides.

“I’ve…still got so much to work on,” he murmured under his breath, rubbing an arm and averting his gaze as the embarrassment tinged his cheeks flush and warm.

“And that’s just something I never figured out how to get past. It’s not that easy, or I’d have done it already.” Gala offered him no words, only letting their body language steer them together until she could pull him in for a long hug.

“I know that telling you that stuff isn’t going to make it easier or make you want to do it any more, so I’m not sure why I do.”

For the most part, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t listen, but it was something he’d always had difficulty with. Waving her off dismissively, he decided not to reply, before gesturing towards the front room.

“Let’s call it a night, I’m getting tired,” he offered. She couldn’t help peering at him beneath heavy, knowing, decorated eyelids, aware he’s used that excuse when he didn’t want to talk about something since they’d met, but knew better than to refuse him. Pulling the long strap of her purse up over her shoulder, she stood up to leave.

They lingered too long, too close, staring each other in the eyes too deeply for too many seconds, frozen in time as they were both lost in a moment of nostalgia, reminiscing old times, remembering the best and the worst in a shared moment of silence. Leo’s hands almost settled on her hips as he nearly followed the desire to pull her into a kiss, but in a last-ditch effort to neglect the urge, he turned around and sighed, opening the door to the tall stairway and gesturing for her to go through it. Somewhat hurt, but understanding, her gaze slowly trailed to the ground before she stepped through to leave.

“Goodnight,” she sung quietly in his direction before he’d closed the door.


End file.
